A Matter of Trust
by DeniseV
Summary: A couple of missing scenes once Peter finds Neal at the clinic in this week's great episode Vital Signs. Some dialogue from the show is included for continuity's sake. Loved this episode.


"How can someone this skinny be so heavy?" F.B.I. Special Agent Peter Burke grumbled as he dragged Neal Caffrey to the stairwell adjacent to the Howser Clinic's conference room. His 'partner' was growing ever-heavier the longer it took him to escape from the 'renowned' facility. He wondered if he'd be able to get Neal to his car before the ex-con passed out altogether, though to be fair, the fumbling footsteps of the normally assured and confident man were hindering more than helping at this point. One thing he didn't need to wonder too long about was that Caffery would have needed help getting in to this place.

Where was Mozzie? There was little doubt that he'd had a hand in getting Neal into this predicament in the first place.

That question was answered for him as he made it near the bottom floor of the staircase…hopefully the staircase that held an outside exit. Mozzie stood at the bottom, waving Peter down with his head and shoulders, his hands otherwise occupied holding two plastic trash bags overflowing with papers.

"Come on," he said hurriedly. "The coast is clear, for now." Moz finally realized that Neal was being dragged by 'The Suit'. "Hey," he said as he ran up the few steps to the two men. "What happened?"

"Drugged. Sedative, I think. He was barely lucid when I found him."

"Damn," Moz said as he opened the door to the outside. "Where's your car?" It was a rare event when Mozzie was actually grateful that someone used an automobile in his beloved Manhattan.

Peter looked around, getting his bearings. "Just around the corner. Keep him here. I'll bring the car around."

"No, there's no time. Powell and the girl have pulled some of the security, leaving this spot vulnerable. We have to take him out now."

Peter stayed on Neal's left side as Mozzie handed him one of the bags. Mozzie took up position on Neal's right and they quickly dragged the now no-better-than semi-conscious man to the Company-issue sedan. Burke pulled out his keys and unlocked the car with his remote. They hustled Caffrey into the back seat, Mozzie getting in beside him, and then Peter got the car started and headed to June's building.

"Just drop me off," Moz said as he patted Neal's leg affectionately, nervously. His friend now lay unconscious next to him, his head leaned against the back seat.

"I intend to, Mozzie," Peter said. "What did you think you were doing?" the F.B.I. man asked as he sped to drop Mozzie off. He knew that leaving Neal's crafty accomplice off at June's was the man's way of keeping Burke from learning too much about him. Right then, Peter would like nothing better than to arrest the man for contributing to the delinquency of his charge. But he knew he couldn't do that, despite the fact that the charge fit the crime. Peter was sure he'd be able to make more headway with the stubborn ex-con if he didn't have Mozzie around to encourage his nefarious ways.

"Did he get you the information that you need?" Moz asked defensively.

"That is yet to be determined," Peter replied. "You're lucky that they didn't inject him with something far worse."

Mozzie knew that was true. He decided to lie low for the rest of the ride. Peter held his tongue as well, and it was no more than ten minutes before the two men parted ways. It was another half an hour or so before he had Neal on the sofa in his living room.

"Are you sure he shouldn't be at an emergency room?" Elizabeth asked worriedly. Neal sat unmoving, the ice pack that Peter had suggested resting untouched on the young man's head.

"No, I've seen this before. It's just a sedative, a whopper of a sedative, but that's all it is. He just finally succumbed to it on the ride over. He'll probably need a little while before he comes to. He'll be sorry when he does; it won't be pleasant."

"What was he thinking?"

"He wasn't. Par for the course, acting on instinct instead of using his intellect," Peter replied, shaking his head.

"I think he does a lot of what he does just to please you."

"I know," Peter conceded, cocking his head and then shaking it in frustration. "Do you know what he said to me?" he whispered as he took his wife's elbow and moved her away from the young man on the couch.

"He was capable of talking? It's hard to believe," she said as she looked sadly at the sleeping ex-con.

"Don't let his demeanor fool you…he's a lot tougher than he looks."

"I know that," she answered. Elizabeth finally looked up to her husband, with whom she was still a bit angry over the undercover chiropractor discussion, and asked, "What did he say?"

"He told me that I was the only one he could trust."

"And you know he meant it because you've seen that before, too. How when people are at their most vulnerable they will tell the truth."

"Yeah." Elizabeth could see how important Neal's simple declaration had been to her husband. She found it hard to remain angry at him when the compassionate man that she loved and married stood before her. That Peter Burke was mighty alluring. But she wouldn't tell him that. Not just yet. She was brought out of her musings on her sexy husband and her jealousy of a woman she knew she had nothing to worry about by a moan from the sofa.

"Hey, you waking up?" Peter asked as he kneeled next to the prone man. He lifted one eye to check Neal's pupils, which elicited a louder groan and an attempt by Caffrey to push the offensive hand away. Peter slapped the hand away easily and lifted the other eyelid.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Neal whined.

"Good, that's better," Peter said. "Your pupils were blown earlier."

"I didn't think. . ." Neal started.

"No kidding," Peter chastised.

"You said. . ." Neal tried again.

"Nothing about you going there without me!"

"Peter," Elizabeth warned. "Don't yell at him," she mouthed to her husband. He saw the pleading in her eyes, and the pain in Neal's, and felt a little bit of guilt of his own for not stopping this before it had gotten started. Elle sat on the arm of the chair and eyed the ailing man with concern.

"Sorry," Neal muttered, at the very moment Peter said the same thing. Elizabeth smiled at both men, and then remembered that she was still mad at her husband. She averted her eyes from Peter's and concentrated her attentions on Neal.

"Oh, my head is killing me," Caffrey said as he held the ice pack in place.

"Neal, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

"Hey, what about me?" Peter asked, justly demanding some spousal attention for his efforts.

"There's some dishes that need to be washed, Mr. Magic Hands," Elle parried snarkily with her husband. "Do you want some more ice?" she asked Neal with far more warmth than she was currently showing the man she'd been married to for ten years. Neal nodded his head with a pout. Peter rolled his eyes for about the tenth time in ten minutes, between dragging his charge into the house and his wife's cold shoulder, and Elle agreed to go get some more ice as she gave her husband a look that could kill.

"You better've found somethin'," Peter said as he sat on the coffee table in front of a prone Caffrey.

"I saw a list full of wealthy clients, all of them willing to pay for organs if the time comes."

"Nice if we could prove it," the F.B.I. man muttered.

"Maybe we can," Neal said, intriguingly. "There was another list, hundreds of names, and blood types," Caffrey added, taking a breath. The excitement at finding good information was warring with his body's fight against the drug he'd been given at the clinic.

"Your fax," Peter said, unfolding the sheet that had been sent electronically to his home machine, "that's what this is." He showed it to Neal.

"Uh, must be the donors Powell's been targeting," Neal said, his eyes looking pained at the effort of reading the fax. "Only four names came through?" he queried, looking tired.

"Four's enough. We can talk to them," Peter noted. He looked closely at the ex-con and said, "Rest up. You need to shake those drugs from your system, and then we'll head back into the office."

"Can we get something to eat?" Neal asked, eyes big, the puppy dog look back in place. The kid should patent it.

"Yes, we can. Sleep first. I'll wake you when it's time to go." Elizabeth came back in with the ice pack.

"Here you go," she said, very warm, very comforting.

"Thanks." Elle placed it gently on Neal's head, and then stood to leave, giving her husband one last stink eye before she did.

"She's mad at you for flirting." Neal stated the obvious. Peter just grunted in reply. "How much did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her much, but she found out anyway."

"She's smart," Neal slurred as he blinked his eyes sluggishly. He'd told what needed to be told, and now his exhausted body was finally catching up and passing that whirling dervish of a mind.

Peter looked down at his. . .friend, and shook his head. Even semi-conscious, the man was in tune to his environment. The more time he spent with Neal Caffrey, the more Peter Burke found to like.

"She loves you," Neal said, barely a whisper, nearly asleep. "She'll get over it," he added. Peter allowed himself a crooked grin and then looked up, seeing his beautiful wife standing in the doorway.

"Is he right?" he asked, the smile fading to a hopeful grin.

Elizabeth still looked upset, though Peter doubted she really knew why, and then said, "He's probably right." She cocked her head and returned her own grin, more sad than anything. "Eventually." She left the room.

Peter turned to Neal once more, hoping he was as right about his wife as he'd been on so many of the cases they'd worked together. He decided to give the man a couple of hours to crash and then they'd get a quick bite on the way back in to the office. They had a lot of research and planning if they were going to make headway with Powell and recoup that money. Peter knew he had a good team of agents back at the office, but the sharp mind of one Neal Caffrey seemed to be the difference he'd needed on his team. In spite of the frustrations inherent in keeping tabs on the man, and his own occasional exhaustion in keeping up with him both physically but most especially mentally, Peter Burke had to admit that this was a partnership in the truest sense of the word. Neal trusted him, and damned if he didn't feel compelled to trust him right back.

The End.


End file.
